What week is it?
I dunno. Time blurs without the structure of school to keep me focused.
This has been a profoundly uninteresting week, I mean, except for That Fucking Cat’s Drama, I’ve been doing Mommy Camp.
The one thing I’m very disciplined about is loading my phone’s photos onto my computer, editing and tagging them at least a couple times a week.
While I’m too tired and time’s too short to draft a decent post, I miss writing so I’m going to put up an unedited, free-association, photo based post. Enjoy.
All my houseguests are gone until tomorrow, except for Wilkins. He’s an old friend who I’m fairly certain I met at the same time as Loony.
I remember him well because he walked up to my table at The Trident, wearing red pants and moving kind of like a bird.
He’s crashing with us when he’s in town, a distinct pleasure. I never know when he’s going to turn up but I’m delighted when he does.
Like I said, I enjoy it when people invite themselves over because I don’t have to whip myself into a frenzy of cooking, cleaning and grocery shopping to prepare.
He loves Blue. Everyone loves Blue. Even people that Blue hates (i.e. all little girls) love Blue which is kind of a problem.
A friend of mine came to the door and as I shoved his butt out of the way she said, “You cultivate this insane lifestyle, don’t you? The crazy house, the dog, the constant guests, it’s all part of a plan.”
I can’t say that it’s calculated. I didn’t wake up one morning and say, “Today, I’m going to paint my house pink, turn it into a hotel, get the most inconvenient dog ever and meet a bunch of people who like inappropriate party games!” but somehow it happens.
I suppose it doesn’t hurt to be married to Loony. I don’t know where the eccentricity came from, perhaps I bring it out in him or vice versa. Maybe we are like Mentos and Diet Coke.
Just go to 1:20 for the fun.
Apart they kind of suck but together make a big fucking mess and get CRAZY MAD HITS ON YOUTUBE!
Stupid is fun.
Speaking of stupid …
I’m growing my bangs out. I’m not sure why because everyone except this guy really likes my hair.
My stylist got tons of clients because of this hair cut. But still, even though I love it, I feel like my hair wears me rather than the other way around.
And I miss my as-yet unwrinkled forehead (without the help of Botulism, thank you very much) so I probably should enjoy it while I can. So I’m growing out my bangs.
And I’m in that awkward stage. That top picture is what happens when I fall asleep with it wet.
But I was so tired! I took the boys to the Renaissance Festival in Larkspur yesterday and was hot, tired and dusty when I got home. It was all I could do to wash off the filth and crawl in bed.
It was a lot easier when we went with Shawn and Rachel two years ago. More eyes to keep the kids from being swallowed by the dusty masses are better. And Shawn is a fucking stud in that chain mail get up.
My boys gravitate towards the bloodsport, choosing to believe that people actually battle to the death.
I posted this shit on Facebook.
I also took them to the Chihuly exhibit at the Denver Botanic Gardens, because I am the kind of mother that fosters the love of fine art in my children.
Not really. I just really wanted to see this show (my grandmother was an early fan) and I figured my kids could run around like wild animals since it was all outdoors.
The next day I mooched off of Wu again and got into their swimming and tennis club. It has the most beautiful grounds and a pond infested with prehistoric snapping turtles.
The super loud kid is Wu’s son, Jake. Though he be small, he be wicked loud.
The weather was on and off, so when the pool was closed the kids fed the turtles (which scare the shit out of me, by the way) and played on a log.
This is too linear. I’m going to start free associating now.
I saw this tattoo and took a sneaky picture of it because I was intrigued with the words. I wonder what the whole thing says.
On my walk this morning I saw a deer …
… a dead bird …
He was hanging out in front of the sheriff’s car. The Heart and Soul half-marathon is running through town and this badass kitty was keeping the situation UNDER CONTROL by strutting around with the authorities.
The picture doesn’t do him justice but believe me, he was in charge.
Now it’s time to clean the English Patient’s mini manse. Her litter box is a disaster. It’s so small!
It has to be small enough to fit in the cage and shallow enough that she doesn’t have to jump to get in it. As a result I have to clean it five times a day, it seems.
Right now it’s all chill because she’s doped up on kitty morphine. What is going to happen when we run out? Will we have to give her kitty methadone or something?
What a great show but HOLY SHIT, if you get drug tested at work or just don’t want to have giant bong hits blown in your face all night and get stoned as hell just watching a show, you probably should steer clear.
I mean, not that I’m complaining or anything. Nightmares on Wax’s finest CD is Smoker’s Delight, in my personal opinion.
So should I grow my bangs out or not? Penny is in town for a week and it’s not too late to get her to fix me.